


Want One

by Ayes



Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: Age Difference, DDLG, F/M, Porn with Feelings, Ron pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-22 02:05:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12471064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ayes/pseuds/Ayes
Summary: Ron doesn't have a fantasy life. He doesn't read any fiction that isn't rooted in good old American adventures, spies and good guys and beautiful women who get hot when a gun goes off. He doesn't go in for nerd shit, and he definitely doesn't daydream about anything like a fucking moony-eyed kid. He doesn't indulge in frivolous flights of fantasy, just as a general rule.





	Want One

Ron Swanson is a public servant, and he would never do anything to upset the citizens of Pawnee, which is why he buys his guns and ammo at the WalMart two towns away.

The gun aisle, one of the best of all American inventions, is in the back and he lingers near the snack foods aisle on the way out. The selection is amazing- every cheese flavored snack goes into his cart alongside his new silencer, bag of coffee filters, and food for the cat that lives in the alley between his house and the Bulge - the staff there called it Sir Meowsalot and Ron had taken pity on it for that reason alone.

Ron eyes the toilet paper, wishing there was a brand called MAN SHITS or something better than Charmin, or worse, Ultra Charmin. He is in a good if bored mood, in the midst of an aisle in the middle of a WalMart in the center of a town far away, when he sees his small, be-hoodied assistant April not two feet over. 

She is frozen, her fists curled up at her sides and her eyes wide the way he's only seen hers get, but usually she uses them to intimidate and the tables seem turned for some reason. He is about to greet her, after all, this is an odd coincidence, when he notices the pregnancy tests she is clutching in those fists, seemingly price comparing in another town where no one will recognize her.

He coughs. "Ah, shopping?"

"No. Why?" She looks at the tests, shoves one back, and awkwardly pivots in place, staring him down. "You didn't see this."

She scampers off, all manic and young, and he hopes she isn't pregnant. When he sees her waiting for the bus home, he offers her a ride.

x

Ron's house isn't special but he likes it, it's big enough for a family but he has painted it dark blue and oak brown and made it a two bedroom mancave. April pronounces it cool and drops her coat on the leather armchair. 

"Would you like something to drink?"

"Scotch. If I have to pee on a stick I may as well make it good." She looks around, toeing off her shoes without asking. He kicks them toward her coat and goes to fix her a drink.

When she takes the test into the bathroom he discreetly tries not to hear her, but he kind of can, and her hesitant peeing is somehow adorable. He imagines what it would be like to have a wife or girlfriend taking this test in the other room, if he'd be excited. He wonders why April is at his house.

They wait it out together, a shot poured out for yes and a shot poured out for no. It is negative, and they do both shots together, getting comfortably tipsy and even sort of hugging when she goes home. 

Nothing happens between them but it feels like things change.

x

At work April shoots him dark looks through her bangs and they don't bring it up. They don't get chances to, she mostly does her job without his interference and the one time that he does give her instructions that week she leaves the door open. She's no longer with her gay boyfriends and he notices that she's acting out more, literally making Jerry cry one day over something that he never bothered to find out more about. She tells Leslie to shove it but Tom tells her that it's a new dance move and Leslie delightedly attempts to do it. April huffs and disappears and Ron sees her later from his window, smoking a cigarette and staring down the cameramen who are trying to interview her.

x

Ron is hunting in the nearest area he can, behind a stretch of suburban houses in the south part of town. He'd fed Sir Meowsalot early and come out at around nine, but it was well after noon now and he still hadn't shot anything.

He thinks he smells a skunk and heads down a leafy hill away from it, but his crunching footsteps spook something and he aims his gun at the movement in front of him.

"Jesus Christ, Swanson, you gonna shoot a girl?"

"April?"

She comes out, hands up, in a purple bikini top and boxer shorts that look like they have been made for a woman, judging by the amount of thigh. She smells of bug spray and he approves that, even though it is ridiculous to be wandering the forests in your underclothes - there are bears, for christssakes, and possibly rapists - she has the sense to protect all that pink skin.

Pink. Ron shakes his head and lowers his gun. "April, what the damn hell are you doing out here?"

"It's basically my yard, god, I was just smoking weed because my mom is at home and she's super lame. I live up that way." She points, and he remembers. "I'm trying to get tan because I'm like, disgusting."

"That's how you get skin cancer."

"You'll still never live to see it."

They eye each other. He doesn't know if he should just leave. But they're friends, kind of, and her skinny shoulders are sticking up through her hair and her eyes are so dark and her nose is so sunburnt that it's like she's come out of the woods from a dream. He's always had a weakness for brunettes. He remembers being her age, the girls' high, tight breasts and asses. April's outfit lends itself to the imagination so that he can imagine how a full-body blush would look on her.These are inappropriate thoughts, and he banishes them.

She's giving him a funny look still. "Want to smoke?"

To surprise her, he nods, and takes the joint. They pass an afternoon of her shooting at trees and him watching her do it, watching her. Then not. Then again.

x

Ron doesn't have a fantasy life. He doesn't read any fiction that isn't rooted in good old American adventures, spies and good guys and beautiful women who get hot when a gun goes off. He doesn't go in for nerd shit, and he definitely doesn't daydream about anything like a fucking moony-eyed kid. He doesn't indulge in frivolous flights of fantasy, just as a general rule. 

Except.

Oh, he tries to keep his mind on his work. And it may just be his recent dry spell, since what happened with Tammy. Andy and April are dancing around each other, and he knows what's going to happen, and the pheromones in the air must be bouncing off of her, and… there are more excuses, he knows it. He tries to remember them, but he keeps going back to the fantasy.

It's been coming on slowly, plaguing him now. The fantasy. Where April comes to him in a shroud, of all things, in the river near where he found her last time, and begs him to take it off of her. Where he kneels in front of her and kisses her cool muddy feet and she pulls him to the vee of her legs where he breathes her in and instantly, at this point, is rock hard in his office chair and pressing down on his erection with his palm.

Looking at the back of her head makes him feel guilty, like she'll know that he was just fantasizing about sniffing her lady parts and then possibly attaching his face for a while.

She's half his age.

"Ugggnh," Ron says, putting his perfectly coiffed hair down on the desk in front of him. April knocks, and he tries to push his face into it. "What is it, April."

"Um, Leslie says that I'm betraying all women in government unless I let her give you some flyers about some topiary artist."

He lifts his head. "Let her in." She nods, one bob of today's tumbling curls, weak like she curled them to go out last night, and came to work without washing her hair. He wonders where she slept, if it was alone. He wonders if he's one of those bosses that gets arrested or sued or something for sexual harassment. 

Leslie comes in, and he refocuses for a moment, grateful for the distraction when the door swings shut and April sits back down outside.

x

He lends her to Chris one day after she wears a tiny skirt and he has to come twice in the bathroom before the governor's photo op.

x

Ron is at home alone on a Thursday when he gets a phone call from Leslie.

"Ron! It's me, Leslie!" she says, like he hasn't been working with her for years. There are loud noises behind her.

"Yes, Leslie. What is it?"

"Ronnnn, we're at your house! No. We're near it! At the Bulge! Come have one of my drinks!" 

"Leslie-" He is about to tell her why this is in no way something that he wants to do, whether or not it please the Queen of the Gays, when he hears the phone be passed.

"Ron?"

"Tom, why are you always at the Bulge."

"Minor owner's disagreement at the Snakehole! Donna says I can't go to ladies' night. Whaaat? Anyway all the chicks have their defenses down here."

"How's Leslie?"

"Druuuunk. And Ludgate was here! I think she went home."

"Ron sucks in a breath. "Did she drive?"

"Fuck, man, I don't know, what am I the fun police?"

Ron is already peering through his venetian shades. Sir Meowsalot is is crying somewhere under the house, purple and orange lights pulse across his muddy back driveway, and April Ludgate is throwing up behind a dumpster.

x

When he brings her inside she barely seems to notice, and he is alarmed by her shining face, shut eyes, the heat that she is giving off, and the sick sweet smell of sweat, vomited Leslietinis. 

He puts her on the couch, and gets water, and crackers, and a cool towel, before realizing that he brought danger into his own house like a goddamn idiot.

"What?" April sits up out of nowhere, and Ron cups her shoulder to steady her, sits across from her on the footrest.

"April, you're at my house. You're very drunk."

"No…" she mumbles, sarcastic even now. She reaches for the water, rinses her mouth out, and sits back against the cushions. "Did you, like, carry me?"

He ignores the question. She is wearing combat boots and a filmy dress, stuck up around her knees that are depressed in bumps still from kneeling on the gravel. She looks so delicate and small that he gets that surge he's getting used to around her, of deep guilt and deeper lust. She's so drunk, he's terrible.

"I'll bring you home."

"No!" She lays back on his sofa, dragging an arm over her face in a slow, clumsy way. "My parents. Let me just pass out, Ron, please, I'll drive home in the morning."

Before he can say yes or no she is asleep or pretending.

x

It doesn't happen right away. Ron makes himself lay down to sleep in the next room, and has fitful, shallow dreams of trees and kneecaps. It doesn't happen until 2:19, when the sounds of people leaving from the club, starting their cars, exchanging numbers and cat calls and saliva wake Ron up some nights. Usually he'll tend to the Jameson in his bladder that he fell asleep with, and go back to bed within minutes. Tonight he hasn't had any. Tonight it's not the noise that wakes him but the press of April's body against him. She's obscenely hot and when he opens his eyes her hands are on his chest, her eyes wide and breath terrible. He doesn't move, afraid that instead of moving away like he ought to that his body will betray him.

"April, get the hell out of here." There. He's proud of himself, but she doesn't move, just fixes him with a strange look. "April, as your boss, I'm ordering you to let a man sleep." He shifts finally, intending to lead her back to the couch or even drive her straight home, but she catches his wrist with a surprising amount of strength for how drunk she was a few hours ago. 

It happens. She traps his hands between their bodies and kisses him, a third of his size but momentarily in complete control. She kisses him briefly, but with a determination, and he has to tilt his chin up to get away. His insides are ice cold and all the blood in his body seems to be singing in his ears. 

"Get out." Wanting turns his voice into a growl, and she moves away from him. Not enough. "Go!"

"Ron," she says, looking stricken. He imagines her nipples under his thumbs and turns away from her. Her voice changes. "Ron fucking Swanson if you don't kiss me back I'll tell everyone that you take bribes and touch me after hours."

Thank God. He lets her kiss him again, not responding at first with willpower he is proud of. All that is shattered, though, when she presses her knee up and finds his erection. Her tiny, interested throat noise undoes him, and he rolls her under him, holding her at the hip and the throat like she'll get away. "You should have left," he says, exploring the bone of her hip with his thumb and staring at her clavicle, her hair on his sheets, his hands that dwarf her body. The dress is cool and scratchy against his arms. It's a moment he wants to undo and still never forget again.

"I know you want to do this," she insists, her logic making a starting amount of sense when his dick is pressed against her thigh and he's unconsciously rubbing her neck with the side of his thumb. He forces it to stop moving. 

She comes up to kiss him again, so fast she turns a little pale, and he moves away in time to let her slip out of the bed, to the bathroom, and to her knees where she begins again to purge her system. I know you want to do this. He feels sick. Aroused but sick, like he's going to throw up next. They had come so close. Ron Swanson, unable to resist a girl in her twenties when he really, really needed to.

He goes to sleep on the couch but he doesn't sleep much at all.

x

Now that there actually is something to avoid talking about he can't seem to keep April at arm's length. She is the best worst assistant ever for a week or so, like her job is at stake, like all she remembers is being drunk and cared for, or maybe it's a tactic. He doesn't know if he's safe. If he wants to be.

The day Andy comes to him for advice, Ron gives it, but sits brooding at his desk for some time. She finds him, clutching files that need reading, or at the least, signing, and hovers in the door. "Mr. Swanson?"

"Back to that?" Ron looks at her, taking in how straight her hair is today, and her little wrists poking out of her striped cardigan. He knows why Andy would like her but thinks she'll outgrow him soon. Or maybe he's fooling himself into thinking that he's the kind of man who'd be better for her.

April shuffles in closer, drops the files on his desk. "Ron. Sorry."

He touches her arm, a crazy impulse. No one can see it from the office, unless she moves. She doesn't. "Ron," she tries again, sounding hesitant. "Sorry."

This is it, the free out. He could even fire her, and never deal with this again.

Instead he says "April Ludgate," and runs his hand from her arm to her hand, which he clasps, a little desperately. "Don't apologize."

A grin splits her face, before Leslie runs in yelling about the importance of bi-weekly fire drills and they move apart, and away.

x

They meet after work, in the woods behind her house. It's really more of a scattering of browns and oranges and candy wrappers, the occasional family of killer raccoons. It's the type of woods that seems to be made up of clearings when you've walked into it, and they go for a walk through them, not making eye contact; April is quiet, and Ron makes himself start.

"I shouldn't have let you come over."

He can tell she's thrown off. "The other night?"

"In the first place."

"Oh."

They keep walking, their feet making more noise than he usually makes here hunting. She asks, "Why?" and he decides to be honest.

"It's been… dangerous. Seeing you outside of work, I've, I… there could be consequences."

"Yeah?" He knows he's being vague, he can feel the question still hovering there, and he gives up a little more for her agin.

"You have my attention, when it should be on work," he says, trying to sound stern instead of helpless, trying to project authority into his voice so he isn't scared shitless of a girl whose prom wasn't so far behind her. "I can't help it, it's… shifted."

"I thought I made that part up, after the Bulge. You know, your... attention." April sounds hopeful. He doesn't understand what she's hoping for, it couldn't be him. 

"You could switch departments. I'll give you a recommendation. I don't, it's not a good idea- April-" She tries to kiss him again, the brave girl, but he's slightly too tall for her to land it and he catches her again.

"Come on," she says, in a breath that hits him crotch first. "It's not illegal." He tells himself that he only kisses her to scare her but she kisses ehim back and he tries to see if pinning her to a tree will change her mind, but she fucking moans and he just snaps, lifting her against him by the ass of her jeans and burying his face in her chest when her legs come up around him. "April-"

"My parents aren't home," she says, and for the first time, because he's just a man after all, he doesn't try to talk her out of it.

x

 

The first bedroom upstairs is her parents' but they use it anyway.

April is all long limbs and clammy skin when he gets her undressed, and she draws up to a sitting position while they kiss, stroking his face as he unbuttons his flannel. He breaks off the kiss to look at her and then pull his tee over his head, and he's grateful when she helps him with his pants because the sight of her is wholly distracting. Her nipples are high and dark and when she kneels to lower his boxers, he sees a shadow that means she shaves bare, if not so recently. It's a first for him.

When they're both fully naked it's already evening outside, they missed sunset somewhere in the time between the front door and the long kisses and the hand stuff they'd warmed up with. Ron is beginning to believe his luck, and only because he doesn't want it to end now. 

"Tell me you want this," he says, to be sure. April is still kneeling in front of him, though, and she looks at him like he's an idiot before she takes his cock in her mouth and swallows around it in pulses. This fucking girl.

He pulls away from her, backs up until she follows him. He developed a pyramid of greatness, and he didn't do it by being a lazy bedpartner. He wiggles his fingers to get her to flip around, and when she does he pulls her back against his fingers. He fucks her for a moment, feeling out her noises and her soft spots. Then he slams into her for real.

"Oh, wow," he says, pushing into her. It's nothing like he imagined, she's not like how he remembers girls being when he was her age, she's all angles and mean curls of the mouth. Maybe she's something altogether new, he knows that he certainly feels more responsible than he ever has during sex, less primal and more careful to keep his weight off her her, more reverentially studying her reactions, hermoues. His dicks slips out and she starts begging for it back, and it's enough that he comes when he shoves up inside her again and she shudders tight around him too.

x

Three months later there is snow in her hair and her pink pink lips smiling up at him.

"April, sweetheart..." he rumbles, perceiving her mood shift. She pouts and flicks his dick through his pants; he hisses slightly but doesn't pull away. "Stop it. For five minutes."

"Why, this is like, super boring." The sunset on the snowcapped trees is gorgeous, throwing different colors into the leaves if he squints his eyes. April is bundled up and she looks just beautiful, he is Ron fucking Swanson and he is with the hottest little girl in town. "It's just trees and shit." She does this on purpose, to drive him insane. He'd told her that she had blackmailed him, once upon a time, to kiss her back, and she had just snorted and said it sounded like her. He loved her. This much was for sure now. He didn't know what kept her coming back to him, but she did, and having her at his side for board meetings and 2AM breakfasts was pretty… not bad.

"Ron?" she says, her voice soft for the first time he thinks he's ever heard it. It startles him out of his thoughts and he meets her gaze. "Yes?"

She waits, and then says "There's some snow in your mustache and I'm going to lick it off."

She does, but he knows what she meant.


End file.
